


Blue Christmas

by big_twinkie



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007), The World's End (2013)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Prequel, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_twinkie/pseuds/big_twinkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicholas' first Christmas in Sandford was bound to be a dreary one, but things take a turn for the weird when spooky doings are afoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own any of these characters. They are the creations of Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg.
> 
> This was written for the Cornetto Advent (http://cornettoadvent.tumblr.com/). Check it out if your into Hot Fuzz and Christmas-y things.

Little Peter was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the new clergyman, the new clerk, the new undertaker, and his father, Big Peter. Nicholas had witnessed Danny’s cousin, the shoplifter who had met an unfortunate end, being lowered into the ground in early September. Little Peter, although really sixteen and not as little as he could grow a bad teenage mustache, was as dead as a door-nail.

 

Mind you, how nails would be capable of being dead, no one can really explain, they just are. The point remains that Peter was not merely dead, but really most _sincerely_ dead, and that it should be noted. Without reminding you he was dead, you might not realize how strange it was seeing him walk down the street one morning just before Christmas, as if he had woken up that morning and decided to take a stroll in Saint Vincent’s Square.

 

Also, it should be emphasized that it _was_ Peter, not someone who looked like Peter, who was lucky to still be alive and was walking past the festive Christmas decorations that adorned the street.  

 

There is nothing strange about a living someone taking a walk, but a dead someone is worth mentioning and also important. So you might understand why, upon seeing Peter, Nicholas started to lose control of his vehicle. Nicholas stared, and as he stared, the cruiser started to list to the side—

 

“Oi! Chief, watch the—”

 

\- and struck the fountain with a nice, long scrape. Doris huffed disapprovingly.

 

“ _Dammit!_ ” Nicholas quickly adjusted the wheel.

 

“Pull over somewhere, you silly sausage. Let’s take a look.”

 

He parked along the street, put the cruiser in Park, and twisted around to see if Peter was still there. He wouldn’t be because that’s crazy, but still…

 

“What? What are you on about?”

 

People were passing by…Some of them stopped to window shop…Mrs. Slater, Mr. Slater…the sweets shop…a happy couple goes into the new Starbucks that the NWA would have _greatly_ disapproved of…a flash of purple…

 

“Excuse me…”

 

“Nick!”

 

Nicholas gets out of the car without closing the door and starts running against the crowd. It’s bitter cold out this morning. The air bites his cheeks and nose. And while his coat keeps him dry, wet, pulpy snow starts to soak into the polyester of his trousers. People complain or quickly get out of his way. It only starts to occur to him _now_ that he’s making a scene, but that’s not what stops him.

 

He stops running, slows to a defeated jog, his breath puffing out and evaporating. He doesn’t see Peter or anyone that looks like Peter. He’s vanished, or more accurately, he was never there to begin with. Nick glumly walks back to the cruiser, opens the door, slams it shut, and looks straight ahead because he can’t meet Doris’s eyes yet.

 

“Never mind, he’s back.”

 

“Ten-four,” the radio crackles. “Should we expect any guests? Place a mint on any pillows?”

 

“Not yet, but he’s like a puppy chasing squirrels today. Soon as a misdemeanor happens, I’ll let you know and we’ll dust off the riot gear. Do you really have mints? The ones that are half chocolate? Over.”

 

Nicholas rolls his eyes and sighs. It’s times like these when he really misses his partner, but Danny is still on medical leave.  

 

“No, but I can get some for you.” Dispatch is amused. “We could hang lacy curtains in the cells. Spruce up the place. No reason jail has to be so dreary all the time, right? How are they supposed to enjoy it in there? Over.”

 

“Get a flying ducks mural, Ian. A jail cell isn’t really complete without one. Over.”

 

“Rodger that. Ducks it is.”

 

“Well, what was it then?”

 

Nicholas then realizes she’s talking to him. She raises her eye brows at him, looking both sympathetic and exasperated. Nicholas pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut.

 

“I saw a shoplifter, but he got away this time.”    

 

“Ah…well then, better luck next time, eh? By the way, _I’m_ driving from now on.”

 

“Fine.”

They both get out. Nicholas assesses the damage and it’s both a dent _and_ a scrape. He curses under his breath. He doesn’t mention Peter to Doris, as it’s all rather personal when one goes mad. Still, he can’t shake the uneasy feeling that hovers over him. During his break, he checks the surveillance from the dashboard camera, but it proves inconclusive as a blue light (from where?) had overwhelmed the shutter at the critical moment. This does nothing to improve his mood.

 

“Dammit.”

 

At this point, he has to let it go. He saves the footage though, if only to file it under “what the hell was that”? He skips lunch, his appetite gone, and then scowls for the rest of the day.

 

Shockingly, doing paperwork and spreadsheets until your eyes glaze over doesn’t make you forget seeing a…. The last time he _truly_ _saw_ Peter, he was stiff and over-painted, but somewhat presentable. But really, when he remembers Peter, he sees the big rat gnawing on his face. When Danny knocks on his door and gestures at him that it’s time to go, it’s a relief that his shift is over.

 

“C’mon then, that can wait till tomorrow. We’d better get goin’ before the roads ice over.”

 

“Yeah, okay. Let me finish this e-mail and we’ll go.”

 

Danny lingers by his door until he finishes. He gets the impression that Danny isn’t just waiting, so much as watching him. That’s not unusual or unpleasant, but this time it’s different. Danny smiles pleasantly when he turns his computer off, pats his back as they leave the station. Nicholas doesn’t even bother changing out of his uniform. He signs out and says good-bye to Sargent Turner. He just wants to go home.

 

Well, he wants to go to Danny’s flat where he sleeps on the sofa because he’s technically homeless. There was never any cottage that wasn’t ready yet. It was just an excuse to keep him under surveillance, which is admittedly clever, but somewhat inconvenient for him. Somewhat, in that he doesn’t actually _want_ his own place, even if the sofa doesn’t do his back any favors. He’s not going anywhere either, not until Danny tells him to piss off. Danny needed looking after…at least for a little while longer. Christmas would be especially hard on him.

 

When they return to Danny’s place, he excuses himself and changes into his sweats. He dumps his uniform into the laundry bin where it will mix into Danny’s clothes. He’s been in need of a proper wardrobe since his luggage was stolen. He hasn’t had time to buy very much. He could have gone without most of what he packed, though, if he were really honest. The books and clothes could be replaced, but he still wishes he had his photo albums. Finding those had proved hopeless. The Coopers had either binned them or burned them, and the only proof he had stayed there was his forged signature and a charge to his credit card. His peace lily, god rest her, probably met the same fate.

 

He checks the dryer and folds the laundry. He can hear the television and Danny making dinner. Later, he’ll do the dishes because that’s the deal they made. That’s just as well, as Danny is the better cook. He makes a mental list of the things he has to do tomorrow. Roll call. Discuss the possible murder suspect that might be in the Somerset area. Meeting with the Detective Inspector. Meeting with the Carpenters, which will be sad, and he’s as ill-equipped for that one as ever, as it’s never good news. Go over next year’s projected budget. Call city planning, _again_ , regarding the new snow plow and how they need it _now_ , dammit.

 

He pads into the kitchen and leans against the breakfast bar. Danny is making roast beef with mashed potatoes and green beans. It’s warm and smells good in here. Last night, Danny actually baked bread, and freshly baked bread might be one of the best smells ever invented, right up there with coffee and new car.

Nicholas is terribly spoiled being so well-fed. He knows that even if he works late, Danny will have saved something for him, to be either dinner or lunch, and that there will be a light on left for him so he doesn’t stumble around in the dark when gets...here.

 

Just then, the realization that he’ll have to find his own place _at some point_ hits him like a ton of bricks, but he just can’t go on like this. He’ll never be able to get over it if they become flatmates. He’s squirmed out of talking about it a couple of times now, but sooner or later, Danny’s going to ask again and he’ll have to say no. Either Danny will glumly accept that answer or he’ll ask why. Nicholas really isn’t looking forward to either scenario, but he’s not going to lie...it’ll be awkward for a while…he’d just prefer not living here while it is.  

 

“I can cook sometimes. I don’t want you want you to think you have to cook all the time.”

 

Danny looks back at him and shrugs good-naturedly.

 

“It’s not a big deal. I have time on my hands.”

 

“Not for long, mate, not for long. We might consider getting away for a while. Do something you wouldn’t normally have time for.”

 

Danny shrugs again, his back turned.

 

“Honestly? I’m looking forward to doing something useful. Yeah, yeah,” Danny shoos him off with a wave, already sensing his protest before Nicholas can say it. “I know. You’re _right_. I’m just frustrated is all.”

 

“That’s understandable.”

 

Danny turns around and looks at him properly. “Wait, did _you_ want to go on holiday? Cor, here I thought I’d be the one talking you into it. It’s starting to get to you, isn’t it?”

 

“Possibly…maybe I’m just tired. I don’t know.”

 

“You wanna to talk about what happened today?”

 

Nicholas shifted his stance, stood a little straighter. Oh, of course…

 

“Told you, did she?”

 

“She mentioned it, yeah. Said you got real spooked and well…y’know, everyone’s still on edge right now, but we’re going to notice when you are.”

 

Nicholas shook his head slowly.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe it was something I ate. Maybe I just straight up hallucinated, but I could swear I saw Peter Cocker today.”

 

“Pete?” Danny asked. He bit his lip, furrowed his brow. “Seriously?”

 

“Yes. He was as real as you are right now.”

 

“What’d he say?”

 

“Nothing. He ran off, or rather, I didn’t imagine him saying anything. It wasn’t just that.”

 

Nicholas describes the blue light. Danny listens for a moment and then shakes his head and then says the dreaded g-word he’s been purposely avoiding.

 

“So you saw a ghost?”

 

“No. I don’t believe in that sort of thing, do you?”

 

Danny makes a non-committal noise. “I dunno. I like the idea of ghosts, but I never saw one either. Look, maybe you just…”

 

Nicholas waits. Danny struggles for a moment on what he’s going to say, but then walks over to him, places his hands on Nicholas’ shoulders and smiles sadly.

 

“Look, it’s just been a weird day. Now you and me are gonna have some din, watch something Christmas-y, and we won’t worry about anything at least for a little while. Okay?”  

 

They have a quiet dinner and then retreat to the living room. The “something Christmas-y” is _Die Hard_.

 

“Yes, it is. It happens on Christmas and everything. _Totally_ counts. Now this scene is important because John McClane is barefoot and it’s a set up for later in film where he has to save the day without any shoes on. That’s to show how the hero is vulnerable and can be hurt.”

 

Danny falls asleep midway through the film. Nicholas has to coax him back awake and there’s a fumbling of blanks, mumbled good nights. Nicholas turns the tele off, unfolds the sofa to make his bed. He can hear the weather howl and the roof shake now that he’s turned everything off. And out there, it waited in the cold, bleak, biting wind—unmovable, only the dark glitter of its eyes showing any sort of life. It was past ten o’clock when the light goes out in the front window, only the fairy lights from a small Christmas tree still visible. It’s full dark with no stars. The fog is pouring in so dense, the neighboring houses the next street over are turning into vague, black shapes. Neighbors stayed out of the narrow alley where it stood.

 

It had watched the Inspector and Danny go inside and it waited. It watched the light upstairs turn on and then off again. It waits another hour before it approaches, lifts the latch to the back garden, the only sound its footfalls in the snow. Even the wind stills for just a moment.

 

A security light comes on, shines down the lone figure. It freezes, unsure of what to do. The light is new, and so is the set of locks on the backdoor.  

 

It bolts and jumps the fence into the next garden and then the next.


End file.
